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Chapter Five
After a late night at the Assembly, Lydia and her sisters slept late. As they were dressing the next morning, Lydia’s younger sisters peppered her with questions, urging to find out what happened with the duke.
“I can’t believe he danced with you,” Trinity said. Sitting in a chair, she looked over the back of the seat to Lydia, who was pinning up her hair.
“Two whole sets. I heard he nearly dueled Lord Wycliff,” Marcia added, standing in the doorway between their rooms. Her wide-eyed look expressed her awe. “Did he actually propose?”
“Of course not,” Lydia explained, rolling her eyes. “We merely agreed to uphold the ruse.”
Before they could get her to explain, a maid stepped into the room. “My lady, my lord wishes to see you downstairs at once.”
Making a face at her sisters, Lydia finished dressing quickly and headed down to her uncle’s study, which was once her father’s. Her uncle had not often visited Rackliff Manor in London since her father’s death, so seeing him behind the desk made her vastly uncomfortable.
“Please, sit,” he said, indicating the chair in front of the desk. She sat politely, folding her hands in her lap. He leaned forward on the desk, clasping his hands together, and looking down, he cleared his throat.
“I heard the Assembly last night was a great success,” he said, simply.
“Yes, the girls danced every set, that I know of, with a wide variety of suitors,” she explained. “We expect to have many callers over the next few days.”
“Uh huh,” her uncle replied, looking around at papers on his desk as though he was afraid to meet her eye.
She waited, raising her eyebrows at him to encourage him to continue.
“Yes, uh,” he stammered. “Your mother reported that you were seen dancing with the duke for two separate sets and were seen entering the Assembly together, hand in hand.”
“Yes,” she affirmed. Unsure of what he was looking for, she just waited again.
“It’s my understanding, given her report, that your engagement is quite official for such a public display of affection.”
“Your understanding is correct.”
He nodded again, pausing for another uncomfortable moment.
“I doubted you, before,” he continued, finally. “For that, I apologize. Now, though, I see you were in earnest. We’ll need to make arrangements for the marriage. Shall I go ahead to call on the duke to negotiate?”
“I believe that would be appropriate,” she agreed.
“Ah, yes,” he agreed. He looked across his desk, glanced up at her, then sat back in his seat.
“Was there anything else, Uncle?”
He shook his head, so she stood to leave, but the butler stepped in. “My lady, you have a caller.”
She looked over at her uncle gleefully, but he just stared blankly back to her.
“Oh,” she whispered, ashamed to think that her uncle would reciprocate her excitement. Dipping quickly in farewell, she followed the butler out of the room.
“Who is it?” she asked him.
“A certain Duke of Marigold,” he responded.
She grinned, following him down to the front parlor, nearly dancing on her feet. As she stepped into the room, Michael was standing in the middle of the room and turned toward her.
“Your Grace!” she greeted excitedly. “Please, let me call for some refreshments!”
“That’s quite all right,” he said, bowing. “I won’t be long.”
He sat down on the couch, so she took a seat adjacent to him. She studied him for a moment, seeing him in the daylight for the first time. His face was more handsome than she recalled last night, though the memory of his lips brushing hers nearly made her blush. She gathered her thoughts quickly.
